


Method

by saxophonic



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anal Plug, Begging, Butt Plugs, Comeplay, Grinding, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teabagging, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4088614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saxophonic/pseuds/saxophonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the next morning free, Jongdae and Yixing sneak away to blow off some steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [almostblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/almostblue), [fade131](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fade131), and [neckkissxing](http://neckkissxing.tumblr.com/) for your support and patience!  
> This fic would not be here without your help. ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> Any remaining errors are my own.

They meant it to be a one-off thing, an innocent accident. _Experimentation_ , Jongdae told him, if he needs a name. _Stress-relief_ , if he needs another.

Except there was a second time, a few months later. And then a third, and a fourth. It isn’t a regular thing so Yixing loses count after that.

This time, Yixing wakes to the same feeling of tension, of heat simmering under his skin. It has been plaguing him for the last week. Over a quick, early breakfast, Jongdae catches his attention. He looks over to see Jongdae watching him, gaze dark and hungry: he’s felt it, too. Yixing gives a slight inclination of his head, a small signal which Jongdae returns. They look away.

The day ahead of them has other plans. The company seems intent to keep them busy and chaperoned every moment of their day, shuffling them from vocal rehearsal to interview to choreography practice. It isn’t until late at night do they manage to slip away. After the announcement they have the next morning clear, their boisterous bandmates set up an action-thriller flick in the dorm’s entertainment center. In the commotion of the movie starting, Jongdae and Yixing disappear to indulge in their private way to blow off steam.

He shuts the door to their shared dorm room behind himself. Yixing must strain to see Jongdae in the grey semi-darkness of the small dorm room. Neither of them move to turn on the light. The streetlamps outside offer enough illumination through the window for them tonight. His heart pounds in his chest, and they’re panting as though finished with a light jog. Both resist the urge to move, the invisible pull that first brought them crashing together in a tangle of limbs and bruising kisses. The conditioned air still feels stifling with it.

Jongdae swallows. Yixing’s eyes have adjusted enough to focus on the bob of his Adam’s apple. He wants to angle Jongdae’s head back and nip at the skin there enough to bruise for the night. The memory from last time echoes in his bones, of Jongdae keening when Yixing uses his teeth to mark the skin of Jongdae’s neck.

The flash of memory pushes Yixing forward. His hands cradle Jongdae’s face as he brings their mouths together. Their heads tilt, lips overlapping and moving against each other. Jongdae is quick to nip at his lower lip. He sucks it into his mouth and swipes his warm, wet tongue across it. Yixing lets one hand slide from Jongdae’s jaw down to his shoulder. He lets it wander before wrapping around to rest at the nape of Jongdae’s neck. Leading with his hips, Yixing presses closer to feel every soft groan or throaty gasp Jongdae offers him tonight.

Jongdae’s arms slide around Yixing, skimming over his sides with easy familiarity. Yixing breaks the kiss. He smirks as he presses chaste pecks at the corners of Jongdae’s mouth, making Jongdae whine. Yixing knows how to tease him, how to give and when to take away. In response, Jongdae grabs at the shirt resting on Yixing’s lower back. He draws Yixing closer to start rubbing himself to hardness, determined to get the friction he wants.

When Yixing find Jongdae’s mouth again, Jongdae pushes forward, open-mouthed and desperate to hold his attention. Yixing obliges him, lips sliding against each other until Jongdae grows impatient and bites Yixing’s lower lip. Jongdae pulls back a bit, releasing Yixing’s lip before following it right back, whispering . If he’s being idealistic, Yixing could spend a night on these kisses, playful and wet and desperate. If he’s being honest, it doesn’t even take five minutes of Jongdae writhing against him, biting his lips, to get him hard.

The hand at the nape of Jongdae’s neck sits possessive and heavy, helping to keep him close to Yixing. Not that Jongdae needs any help letting his tongue slip warm and invited into Yixing’s mouth, content to meld together until they both need to come up for air.

His hand already resting there makes it easier for Yixing to slide his fingers up the back of Jongdae’s head, until Yixing has Jongdae where he wants him. His fingers curl into a fist, as far from the scalp as the length of Jongdae’s hair allows. Yixing tenses his hand first before giving Jongdae’s hair a light tug. Jongdae’s head tilts back, eyes half-closed and kiss-swollen lips falling open with a breathy, low moan.

Yixing wishes they had turned on the lights, wishes he could see the heavy flush he knows is spreading like spilled paint across Jongdae’s cheekbones and the deeper pink of his tongue-wetted mouth.

Spurred by the image, Yixing leans forward again, letting his hand fall from its post at Jongdae’s jaw to his bicep. Licking his way into Jongdae’s mouth, he feels Jongdae whine against him for more, a pleasant buzz against his lips.

Holding Jongdae’s head steady, Yixing takes his time, licking and sucking and nipping a wandering trail of his own design. From Jongdae’s mouth he finds his way to the corner of Jongdae’s jaw, teasing noises out of Jongdae. Yixing scrapes his teeth over a sensitive patch of skin, making him shudder. Pressing his smile against Jongdae’s skin, he does it again and again. Jongdae’s fingers creep lower, tugging on the belt loops of Yixing’s pants, trying to pull his body closer as his hips hips thrust forward. Yixing can feel his semi-hard bulge shift against his own. Before Yixing moves on to mark a fresh expanse of skin, his lips part one last time to let his tongue dart out to soothe over the spot, the tangy salt of Jongdae’s skin on his tongue.

Readjusting his grip in Jongdae’s head, Yixing pulls again, tighter this time. Jongdae’s yelp of surprise bubbles into a moan. Yixing watches his throat work, exposed and taut with the help of his fist in Jongdae’s hair. He takes a step back, his own body quick to miss the warm pressure of Jongdae pressed against him. Starting near the top of Jongdae’s neck, Yixing leans in to drop kisses along one of the prominent tendons stretched taut by his posture. With every desperate little noise Jongdae makes, blood rushes to his cock. The pressure at his hip sets his senses into overdrive.

“Yixing, please,” Jongdae begs, voice strained in his attempt at quiet. Yixing squeezes Jongdae’s bicep before adjusting his hand to slip down to anchor on Jongdae’s hip. “Please.” Yixing curses in the same breath he takes before applying his mouth to the neck on display, aiming for the area near the Adam’s apple. As if on cue, Jongdae bites his lip as though it will help to muffle his moan.

“I love when you make that sound,” Yixing says into Jongdae’s skin. He bites the spot again for emphasis. Releasing the belt loops, Jongdae shifts his focus higher. He runs his hands up to Yixing’s shoulder blades. Rolling his fingers forward to the press with the tips, Jongdae scratches both hands down Yixing’s back in one long, slow pull. Yixing, mouth busy teasing Jongdae’s neck, moans as his tongue flicks over skin. “Fuck.” His fingers on Jongdae’s hips tighten, and he resents the fact Jongdae is still wearing pants. 

“Fuck,” Jongdae draws out the word until it sounds like a demand. Yixing completely frees his grip on Jongdae’s hair, smoothing it down with his palm. Jongdae watches him, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Yixing watches the stubborn angle of Jongdae’s jaw to the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. He needs Jongdae closer.

In the blur of a rushed moment, Yixing wraps Jongdae’s arms around his shoulders. Sliding his hands back down to Jongdae’s hips, Yixing walks Jongdae back until he bumps up against the wall. Palming Jongdae’s ass before he anchors his hands on his thighs, Yixing lifts Jongdae up and pins him against the wall.

“God, Yixing,” Jongdae breathes before pressing his mouth to Yixing’s. Jongdae wraps his legs around Yixing’s hips, trying to help prop himself up against the wall. Yixing appreciates the help, rolling his hips up against Jongdae. The bulge in his pants brushes against Jongdae’s ass, a delightful moment of friction that makes him moan into Jongdae’s kiss. Yixing does it again and again, rubbing the tip of his dick between Jongdae’s spread cheeks with each roll. His arms strain with the effort, but it’s nothing he can’t manage for a few more minutes, especially when he can feel pressed against his belly Jongdae’s length growing harder between them. “Oh, my god.”

He doesn’t answer Jongdae, nor does Jongdae seem to need any input besides the fingers tight on his legs. Jongdae runs one hand through Yixing’s hair, a quick massage of his scalp that sends warm pleasure down his spine.

Yixing’s hips shift between Jongdae’s legs as he steps back. He hoists Jongdae higher, and Jongdae responds, shifting his arms higher to rest on Yixing’s shoulders. Yixing mouths at the base of Jongdae’s neck while Jongdae plays with his hair, more than content to let Yixing toss him where he pleases. It’s easy to manhandle Jongdae like this only when he’s in the mood for it. Luckily for Yixing, that’s almost every time they’re behind closed doors.

Maneuvering with a hard cock between his legs and Jongdae clinging to his body, Yixing manages to stumble to the dorm’s bunk bed. Careful not to knock Jongdae’s head on the top bunk, Yixing deposits him on the mattress. Jongdae props himself up on his elbows. Spreading his legs open, he presses a palm to his dick through his pants, groaning at the pressure. He unsnaps the top button, zipper hissing open in his haste. Yixing helps him, tugging his pants off and dumping them in an unceremonious lump on the floor. Undressing Jongdae has the added benefit of dragging him to the edge of the bed, closer to Yixing.

“You should have been naked a long time ago.” Yixing’s voice is deeper than usual, rough without any tint of intimidation, taking on the tone reserved for encounters like this. Jongdae grins, bending his knee and setting his foot flat on Yixing’s thigh. He looks up, a tease of a smile hard to see in the shadowy room. Yixing obliges his unspoken request, shucking his pants and shirt while Jongdae shimmies out of his underwear.

Always quick to disrobe, Yixing gets on his hands and knees to fish out the inconspicuous shoebox marked with a stripe of duct tape and hidden under the bunks. 

Jongdae leaves his shirt on and Yixing opens his mouth to argue. His voice stops short. On the bed, Jongdae reclines on his back save for one elbow keeping him propped up. Yixing’s attention snaps to the motion of Jongdae legs spreading open. One leg dangles off the side of the bed. The other bends at the knee, foot resting on the metal frame of the bed. Jongdae slides a hand across his body toward his hard cock, casting a small, faint shadow on Jongdae’s belly.

Hissing a breath through his teeth, Jongdae wraps his hand around the head. He squeezes it in his palm and lets his thumb rub a handful of circles around his tip before he starts pumping the shaft. The display is roughly eye-level for Yixing, who abandons the shoebox unopened on the floor in favor of planting a hand on Jongdae’s thigh. Catching Jongdae’s eye, Yixing leans in to wrap his lips around the crown of Jongdae’s dick, tongue lapping at the slit. It’s warm, with the sharp taste Yixing has learned to enjoy.

“God, fuck.” Jongdae jolts at the sudden stimulation, chest heaving. He stops pumping the shaft, using both his hands to steady himself on the bed. Yixing takes advantage of his upward angle to watch Jongdae. His eyes fall closed and eyebrows shoot up when Yixing rolls the tip of his tongue. “Shit, Yixing. I need more.” Jongdae’s hips lift, chasing the back of Yixing’s throat, but he’s not quick enough. Yixing sits back on his feet as Jongdae offers a throaty whine.

With his free hand, Yixing wraps his finger around Jongdae’s ankle and gives a gentle tug so both his feet dangle off the side of the bed. Jongdae scoots himself closer until his feet can sit flat on the floor.

“You want more?” Yixing asks. Jongdae nods, reaching for his dick again, but Yixing bats his hand away. “Ask for it.”

“I want more.”

“That wasn’t a question, Jongdae.”

He huffs and shifts his hands on the bed. Yixing wishes he could see if the flush has reached Jongdae’s chest yet, spreading like hazy tentacles over pale skin. Still, the darkness makes this all feel more illicit than usual. More of a secret, and it’s already a secret.

Jongdae tries to pass the request through gritted teeth. Yixing just laughs it off. “Nice try.” He kneads Jongdae’s thighs, hands moving close enough to the straining erection between them. Teasing Jongdae without touching where he wants is part of the fun. “Beg for my mouth on your leaky little cock. You’re so good at it, Jongdae.” Yixing smoothes his hands down Jongdae’s thighs, making Jongdae exhale noisily. “At begging.”

“I’m not,” Jongdae starts to say, but simmers into himself, mouth as flat as he can make it. Yixing watches him, tuned to the slight shift of his weight and the soft sigh of a held breath exhaled. “Please suck me off.”

Drawing in a tight breath, Yixing pushes it further. “Would we call that begging? Maybe before, when you had the chance to simply ask, but I’m now not convinced--”

Jongdae cuts him off with an outburst. “Please, Yixing, please suck me off.” He pauses. Yixing catches the smile that flashes across Jongdae’s face before he continues. “Please put your mouth on my dick and flutter your tongue the way I like. Lick it up and down, or just suck the head while your hands jerk me. Play with my sack, my ass. Take me deep in your mouth while your hands touch my hips, my thighs. Just, please. Please do something, anything, with your mouth on my cock. Anything. I need you right now.”

Without hesitation, Yixing leans forward and swallows Jongdae down as far as he can take him. Jongdae immediately lets out a ragged moan, arching his hips off the bed. Yixing is quick to react, hands pressing him back down. He lifts his head up Jongdae’s shaft, a slow drag of the tight circle of his lips over hot skin until Jongdae’s dick is completely completely free of his mouth.

Resting a flat hand near the base of Jongdae’s cock, he presses a light closed-mouth kiss at the tip. Keeping his lips firm, he opens his mouth in as he sinks down the shaft again, sliding fast as cold honey. He starts Jongdae off with a few more of those slow, mouth-only strokes before wraps his other hand around the shaft. Speeding up his pace and using his hand like an extension of his mouth, Yixing closes his eyes and lets himself focus.

Restricting himself, Yixing keeps his strokes on the slower side. He takes his time switching up the sensations on Jongdae’s shaft. A tight, straight grip with his hand and a flat tongue change into a looser wrist offering a slight rotation on each stroke. He follows with swiveling his head as he bobs up and down, keeping the seal around his mouth tight.

Yixing pauses at the head every so often to trace the flared ridge with his tongue. He draws curlicues with the tip and digs into the slit to make Jongdae shudder. Leaning on his elbows, Jongdae’s hands grip the sheets with each pause at the head. His breath comes in sharp bursts, some that sound suspiciously like Yixing’s name.

Growing bored with the repetition, Yixing releases his hand. He presses his tongue flat against Jongdae’s shaft. As slow as the first time he sunk his mouth down that night, Yixing licks up in one long stripe. Reaching the bumps and grooves of Jongdae’s frenulum, Yixing leaves his tongue taut. He grips the base with his hand again. Meeting Jongdae’s gaze, curiosity burning bright alongside lust, Yixing keeps Jongdae’s shaft still as he moves his head in a gentle circle, using the flat of his tongue to massage the ridged underside of the cockhead. Jongdae’s mouth opens wider, his head tilting back to lose himself in the feeling. The sight sends a fresh rush of blood to his own cock, heavy and untended between his legs.

He doesn’t ignore it, but he doesn’t take himself in hand either. He’s never been good at splitting his attention, especially when speaking Korean. Preferring instead to keep his focus intense as a laser point, Yixing immerses himself in the activity of the moment, music-related and otherwise. 

Unless, of course, there is a good enough reason to multitask. Behind closed doors, there is no reason to divide his attention from Jongdae’s pleasure. Watching a wound-up Jongdae come undone piece by piece is its own delightful, unselfconscious display. Every time, Yixing commits the moment to memory. It comes in handy later, locked in a bathroom with just his hand and his imagination for company on lonely nights.

Yixing stops massaging his tongue against the spot. He closes his mouth around the head again. Sinking his mouth down, he hollows his cheeks as his lips meet his hand at the base of the shaft. Under his hands, Jongdae’s body tenses up. Yixing’s grip changes to a single circle of his thumb and forefinger. He keeps it tight and flat against Jongdae’s hip.

Tonight won’t end with Jongdae spending himself in Yixing’s mouth. “Wait,” Yixing says, mouth half-full as he drags the tip of his tongue up Jongdae’s shaft. “Not yet.” He drops a chaste kiss on the oozing tip of the cock, lifting his head to lick the precum from his lips.

Jongdae stares at him, agony on spread across his features from the denial of release. It’s a convincing display, save for the telltale upturn of his mouth. “More? I can take it.” He moves to sit up and readjust himself.

Yixing hums in soft refusal as he slides both hands up Jongdae’s torso, pushing his shirt up. His hands skim up alongside the trail of dark hair from the base of Jongdae’s erection to his navel. The skin there is taut and smooth after Yixing brought him to the precipice of release. Jongdae’s stomach retains the hint of comfortable softness above pleasant, firm muscle. A pliant Jongdae lets Yixing push him back down on the mattress until he is laying flat on his back without hands or elbows keeping him semi-reclined. Yixing’s reach extends just to Jongdae’s nipples. The dark circles are pebbled and hard under the brush of his fingertips. He pulls his arms back toward himself, leaving them untouched but for a ghost of a tease.

Finishing what Yixing started, Jongdae strips off his shirt and flings it to one side. Sitting down on his heels, Yixing takes one thigh in each hand and lifts them apart. “Relax.”

“Are you gonna eat me out?” A thread of anticipation weaves through the question, one likely mirrored on Jongdae’s face. “Raw?”

“Something like that,” Yixing murmurs. That’s all the warning he gives Jongdae before pressing his face forward to tongue at the fold of his hip. Jongdae hums through a moan and Yixing hears his hands scrabble on the sheets. Tracing a light line, Yixing lets his tongue finds its way to the side of Jongdae’s sack. He teases his tongue across them, moving from one to the other. He mouths at and sucks with his lips on each ball. Yixing delights in playing with the raised seam between them. It makes Jongdae squirm closer, legs twitching as he wiggles his hips.

Satisfied with his work, Yixing pulls back, wiping his over-wet mouth on the back of his hand. Jongdae unfolds his legs, letting his feet hit the floor on either side of Yixing. “Jongdae, don’t sit up.” Curious if Jongdae will heed his request, Yixing remains still. Pleased, he presses a kiss to the inside of Jongdae’s knee before turning aside. 

His attention falls upon the shoe box. The duct tape, in a raised strip across the top of the box, offers a single purpose. It allows those who know how to find it by touch. Yixing opens it, setting out its contents side by side: the bottle of lube, the large opaque toiletry bag, and the folded terrycloth towel. 

First things first. Yixing opens the old toiletry bag, ripping a condom off the string. He lets the others fall back into the bag. Opening the lube, he’s careful to add only a few drops to the head of his dick. It’s cool on his hot skin, and he can’t resist spreading it with his thumb. Yixing groans, squeezing the fat head of his long-ignored cock. The sweet application of friction is a temptation he can’t pass up. Yixing gives an experimental stroke, which gives way to several more. He sighs as his hips rock forward to meet his hand.

“I want to watch.”

Jongdae’s quiet voice startles him back to the task at hand. “Not yet.” Opening the condom, he rolls it down his length. Yixing gives himself a few pumps before he’s satisfied with the fit. He sets the lube to one side.

All that’s left is the final item hidden in the toiletry bag. Yixing pulls Jongdae’s candy-apple red butt plug from its loose nest of bath tissue. It’s a fair weight in his palm. The tip curves out for a decent-sized head before narrowing into a waist, angled to target his prostate. The toy grows into a second, less thick bulb, then tapers down again at the end of the plug. Its base is a thick, wide ring. There’s enough space that Yixing can thread two fingers through it for a snug fit. He does just that, dumping the toiletry bag on the ground.

Shifting on his knees, Yixing lays out the towel on the floor between Jongdae’s feet. “Bend in half for me,” Yixing says, skimming a few fingers up Jongdae’s calf. Without complaint, Jongdae complies, lifting his legs and tucking his knees to his chest. He hooks his hands behind his knees to help keep his legs up off the floor and out of Yixing’s way.

Setting the plug on the towel, Yixing palms Jongdae’s ass, spreading the cheeks a bit wider. He drags his fingertips up to tease the balls, enjoying the way Jongdae’s toes flex in response. Reaching for the bottle of lube, Yixing presses the spout beneath Jongdae’s sack. With a firm, even grip, he squeezes a slow drip of lubricant on Jongdae’s skin. Jongdae chokes on a gasp at the shock of cold fluid on his heated, sensitive skin. For a few moments, the lube dribbles in a thin stream along the dark line of the perineum down to the cleft of Jongdae’s ass.

With his index finger, Yixing swipes up the flow of lube from just above Jongdae’s ass all the way to the bottle cap. Moving the bottle away from Jongdae, Yixing squeezes lube on the pad of his finger. He lets lube run down to his knuckles before righting the bottle and setting it beside the plug.

Leaning forward, he wraps his dry hand around Jongdae’s shaft. Yixing teases circles against Jongdae’s entrance with a lubed-up finger. Jongdae shivers at Yixing’s touch. Yixing can feel Jongdae trying to relax the tense muscles of and around his ass. He shouldn’t have to feel like he needs to rush it. He needs a distraction, Yixing decides. 

Jongdae’s cock sways below Yixing’s chin, too close to ignore. He dips his head down to lick around the head. Fluttering the tip of his tongue, he encourages Jongdae’s noises by taking the head of Jongdae’s cock into his mouth. Yixing pumps the shaft in tight, steady strokes, but keeps his mouth in close focus on the head. It’s an easy, comfortable pattern that lends itself well to synchronization. The rhythm of his strokes match with one completed circle traced by his finger around Jongdae’s lubed hole. Yixing presses slow, testing the readiness of Jongdae’s entrance. He grins, pleased with the way his finger slips inside Jongdae like an old friend coming home from abroad

Satisfied, Yixing lifts his head from Jongdae’s erection. He lets his tongue give the ridge one last once over as he pulls his finger free of Jongdae’s ass. To protest, Jongdae’s hips wobble at the loss of Yixing’s warm, wet ministrations. Yixing ignores him.

Wet index and dry middle fingers curl around the loop at the end of the plug. Yixing holds it as steady as he can above the towel as he squeezes lube on the toy. Once it’s wet enough to start, he drops the lube back down and presses the narrow tip to Jongdae’s asshole in gentle circles. He lays his dry hand flat against Jongdae’s hips, steadying himself and Jongdae. 

His knees are starting to ache, but Yixing doesn’t care. His focus remains on Jongdae: his soft whimpering as the plug eases centimeter by centimeter in his ass, the melting tension in his buttocks, the straining cock at his hip. Jongdae takes the plug in slow pushes. Yixing helps him: teasing and massaging with the tip, removing it to apply more lube and starting again, shifting the plug around with gentle pressure. Working at a steady pace, Yixing anticipates the moment when Jongdae relaxes enough that the first bulb, the thicker of the two featured on the plug, slides in. 

Jongdae rewards his patience with a moan, low and long and filthy. Something electric spreads through Yixing like a shot of adrenalin. He needs to hear the sound again. He watches greedily as he pulls the first bulb of the plug into view, or at least, as close to seen as it can get in the shadowy room. He keeps pulling until it’s almost free, the tip of the plug the only thing in Jongdae’s ass. Then Yixing presses it in again, and Jongdae’s toes flex on either side of Yixing’s head as he moans.

With a hum of approval, Yixing sinks his mouth back down. He sucks on the head of Jongdae’s cock and rolls his tongue against the salty slit. Jongdae tries to thrust into his mouth, but Yixing distracts him with a pull on the toy.

“Yixing, please,” Jongdae says, gasping. “More, more. I need more.”

“More?” The tip of Jongdae’s dick still in his mouth, Yixing swirls his tongue around it. He pushes the plug in all the way to the base. Jongdae takes it all, gripping his legs tighter as he tries to suppress a noise. “Is that enough?”

“Fuck,” he breathes. Jongdae sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. “God, Yixing, I--” Yixing drags a moan from Jongdae, sinking his head down until he’s taken Jongdae’s entire length into his mouth. He removes his hand, lying flat at the base of the cock until the last moment. It’s uncomfortable but worthwhile, if only for the desperate whimpering Jongdae makes every time.

As Yixing lifts up his mouth, he tugs the plug out of Jongdae, only to press it back in as his mouth sinks down again. He finds a slow rhythm, pushing and pulling in tandem. Jongdae’s hole tries to cling to the toy. Yixing can feel it in the dragging pull and the slight resistance of each cycle. The curve of the toy makes it perfect for applying pressure to the prostate, something they both know Jongdae loves.

Pulling his mouth off Jongdae’s cock with a satisfying pop of his lips, he readjusts his head on an angle. Curving his tongue around Jongdae’s shaft, Yixing slides his head down in one stroke. His eyes stay trained on Jongdae, watching him tense in self-restrained reaction.

That won’t do. Yixing pushes the toy into Jongdae’s ass all the way to the base, leaving it there to press against Jongdae’s prostate. He refocuses his efforts, centering entirely around Jongdae’s dick. Tight lips and a quick tongue caress the tip before Yixing licks up and down his shaft. With his lube-free hand, Yixing starts jerking him off. He embellishes his strokes with his tongue. Sooner than before, the pulse jumps in Jongdae’s dick. He grows hotter in Yixing’s hands, more rigid. He’s close again, and they both know it.

Dragging his tongue up the shaft in a slow, luxurious lick, Yixing asks, “How much longer can you last, Jongdae?” Jongdae whines, non-verbal and panting. Giving in to the urge to smirk, he sucks on the tip before flicking his tongue just right. “How bad do you want to come right now, Jongdae? Right here, all over my face.”

“I wanna.”

“In my mouth and down my throat.”

“So bad.” Jongdae lets his hands fall from holding his thighs curled up to bury in Yixing’s hair. “I want to come so bad, Yixing.” His eyes screw shut for a few pants before blinking open again. “But I want it -- you. I want you inside me, not the toy.”

Releasing his grip on Jongdae, Yixing sits back long enough for Jongdae to stretch his legs over the side of the bed again. Planting a hand on either of Jongdae’s thighs, Yixing props himself to standing. Or as close to standing as he can get with his head tucked under the top bunk. He shifts his weight forward, sliding his knee on the bed. It displaces one of Jongdae’s legs so it bends upward at the hip, Jongdae’s knee bumping against Yixing’s waist. “You don’t want the toy?” he repeats.

Jongdae meets his eyes, heavy-lidded though they are, and nods. “Yes. I want you.”

Yixing leans down, stretching his arms out to anchor on either side of Jongdae’s torso. He gets close enough toward Jongdae their cocks bump against each other. Yixing cants his hips forward and backward, brushing his own length along Jongdae’s. “Oh, you want me or you want my dick?’

It’s harder for Jongdae to maintain eye contact, eyes going hazy each time they rub together. “I mean, your dick is like, ninety percent of your body mass, so what’s the difference?”

Had he been a modicum less turned on, Yixing would have laughed. “Oh, so you think I have a big cock? But do you want it? Do you want my dick to fill you up, fuck you open until you come for me?” Jongdae reaches for Yixing like he wants to use Yixing’s shoulders for some kind of leverage. Quicker than that, Yixing stops him, pinning Jongdae flat on his back. His hands pressing Jongdae’s wrists to the mattress. “You want me to fuck you, you want my dick inside you.”

Jongdae clenches his teeth, tossing his head to one side, stubborn. Yixing leans in, nipping and kissing along Jongdae’s neck until he finds his mouth. Jongdae’s teeth nip at his lower lip, sucking on it as if to appease him. Yixing shifts the kiss away to let his nose nuzzle against Jongdae’s cheek bone. He’s still close enough that he feels rather than hears the breath of “Yes, please” tumble against his chin. Yixing turns his head, pressing his lips to Jongdae’s.

His hips thrust forward, nudging their cocks together. “You want this,” he murmurs against Jongdae’s mouth. He shifts his hips again, a lazy thrust that manages to rub part of his shaft against Jongdae’s tip. When Jongdae groans, Yixing licks his way into Jongdae’s irresistible mouth.

Jongdae kisses him back. He pulls Yixing close to hook his already-bent leg around Yixing’s hips, eager for friction. When they break away for air, Jongdae’s voice is a cracking whisper. “I want you to stop fucking me with the plug and get around to fucking the stress out of me with your cock. I need it, I need it in me right now.” Jongdae’s leg tightens at Yixing’s hip. Their erections tease against each other in uncoordinated rhythm. “Give me what I want. Please, Yixing. Let me come.”

There’s a thread of desperation in Jongdae’s voice Yixing can’t deny, not when it sets the tension in his body to tighten like a hot coil below his navel. He untangles himself from Jongdae’s grasp. His own growl surprises him, quick and rough in his throat. Jongdae keeps his legs spread wide open. Yixing can feel Jongdae’s eyes on him. His heart pounds in his chest. Stepping back from the bunk beds, Yixing stands and resettles his shoulders. “You should put a pillow behind your head.”

Kneeling down and feeling around for the lube, Yixing hears the quiet smacking sound as Jongdae licks his lips. His fingers close around the bottle, opening it, as Jongdae shifts on the bed to fit the pillow behind his head. Yixing drizzles lube all over his cock, as eager to start as Jongdae. Cock slick, hard, and protected to his satisfaction, Yixing turns his intense focus to the plug. One last roadblock before he can align their bodies and slide home. He teases it out of Jongdae, taking his time with the swell of the bulbs. It’s a test of his patience in the face of how much he’d love to pull it clean out and slide his aching dick into the relative tightness of Jongdae’s ass. The plug drops to the towel waiting on the floor below.

On the tail end of a small whine, expressing his displeasure at losing the pressure against his prostate, Jongdae gasps as a lubed finger circles his hole. Yixing doesn’t spend as much time fingering Jongdae as before. He refreshes the lube slicking up Jongdae’s entrance with another squirt and a few well-placed fingers. 

A few more minutes feel like another hour before Jongdae is wet enough for Yixing to press his head against. “You want this?” he asks, using a hand to hold one of Jongdae’s thighs back. The other hand grips himself near the base of his shaft, rubbing his tip around the tight whorl of muscle. Jongdae groans, and Yixing feels his body sharpen to the sound. “You want to take my cock?”

“God, yes.” Jongdae’s voice is a harsh breath, like a moan shoehorned into syllables. “Get on with it before I try to ride you myself.” Yixing imagines Jongdae trying to fuck himself on his cock while pinned on his back. He laughs at the thought, little more than a chuckle, before turning it over in his mind and filing it away for later review. He keeps the head of his dick rubbing circles against Jongdae’s ass. The thought occurs to him of rubbing his dick along Jongdae’s hip, pressing the full length against him without giving him what Jongdae really wants. He decides against it, aligns his cock with Jongdae’s asshole, and lets his hips slip forward.

Yixing hears Jongdae’s head fall backward, the thud dulled by the pillow cushioning him. He’s just got the tip in, the fat mushroomed head of his cock pressed past Jongdae’s rim. The pressure is gloriously tight, a long-awaited squeeze around hypersensitive flesh. His hips don’t stop, pressing forward, pushing a moan out of Jongdae until Yixing has, at long last, buried his dick in Jongdae’s ass.

Twisting his hands in the sheets, Jongdae breathes heavily. Yixing lets the hand holding Jongdae’s thigh skim around to anchor both his hands on Jongdae’s waist. The tight heat of Jongdae’s ass makes Yixing’s head spin on its axis, blood pumping hot in his veins.

He corrals his thoughts until his focus returns to Jongdae. Yixing runs his hands up Jongdae’s torso, feeling his belly rise and fall with breath, nipples still hard, skin damp and soft and hot to the touch. Leaning forward and bracing his hands on the bed beside Jongdae again, he tongues a kiss on his collarbone. 

“God, Yixing, you can’t just--” Jongdae’s voice is hoarse, his teeth snapping around the consonants. Jongdae’s hands find Yixing’s shoulders, scratching down his back, hard. Gasping, Yixing arches off Jongdae. He holds himself up, eyes finding the smug challenge played across Jongdae’s features even in the dark. “Stop wasting time.” Yixing’s eyes widen at the faintest extra squeeze of muscles around his dick. This time, Jongdae’s voice is smug, smooth. Cocky. “Fuck me.”

Without another word, Yixing angles his hips back, dick sliding out a few centimeters. He snaps his hips forward. “Like this?”

Jongdae huffs in frustration but Yixing doesn’t give him the opportunity to complain, shifting away from Jongdae, the hands on his back sliding off. Yixing’s hands find the sweet spot just above Jongdae’s hips again, palms settling comfortably on either side of Jongdae’s navel. He winds his hips back, sliding out almost a full shaft length, before shifting forward into snug, squeezing heat until his hips connect with Jongdae. “Yes.”

Force of habit takes over as Yixing’s brain races to catch up with his pulse, the slow pull out and the even, matched slide back in. Yixing knows he has to wait, has to work with Jongdae until he’s relaxed enough, sloppy enough to take the pace he wants to take, rough and messy with lube squelching as their hips meet.

It’s easy for Yixing to tell when Jongdae is ready to fuck how they like it best on nights like this. In all odds, it’s the second or third worst-kept secret between them. Jongdae never has to beg for harder thrusts, not when Yixing has memorized the sounds Jongdae makes. There’s a golden ratio of stifled whines and all-out moans that develop as he gets closer to that first threshold. Still, Jongdae begging for Yixing to fuck him harder never fails to act like a shot of gasoline.

“Like this?” Yixing’s prompt is more of a warning than anything else, and they both know it. He folds Jongdae’s legs back, holding Jongdae’s thighs open by the backs of his knees. Wide, easy access and a well-prepped Jongdae. Yixing starts right away, working his hips hard and fast as he fucks into Jongdae. He’s tight enough to feel good without being rigid. Slicked up with lube for a smooth stroke. Pliant in Yixing’s hands but still capable of clinging in small ways, like a hand on Yixing’s forearm, a knee-weakening squeeze on Yixing’s cock.

“Yes. Yes, God, please.” Yixing shifts, trying to get a better angle for Jongdae, with mixed success until his next idea bubbles over from inkling to action.

Thrusting in, he slides himself all the way to the base of his shaft until he’s flat against Jongdae. Yixing grinds his hips against Jongdae, provoking a senseless melange of “oh my god”, “fuck”, “Yixing”, and “please” with each cycle of his hips. 

“Jongdae.” Yixing’s eyes bore into the shadows of Jongdae’s face until he feels Jongdae meet his gaze. In the back of his mind, he wonders if any light from the window is hitting him enough to illuminate his expression, enough to be seen. “Touch yourself.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to do it for you. Touch yourself.” Yixing tilts his head to one side. “Slowly, like how I’m going to fuck you.”

The knot in Jongdae’s throat bobs as he swallows. One hand moves through the air like it’s thick with honey to wrap around his own cock. Yixing keeps his eyes trained on Jongdae until Jongdae meets his eyes again. “Then do it.”

Yixing pulls out, not quite all the way. The slow, yearning stroke makes him hiss through his teeth. Jongdae’s perfect little hole and his perfect little muscles cling to him, squeezing him, sweet motivation to slow down to a drag. He’s careful when he gets near the end of his shaft, catching his bottom lip between his teeth in stubborn defiance of his body demanding faster, harder, more.

Surging forward in that same slow, deliberate way, he takes a breath as he reaches the deep end of his stroke. Jongdae’s hand slides down his own shaft, a beat behind Yixing. They repeat the process, Yixing adjusting his grip on Jongdae’s legs to better hold him open. It’s too easy to lose himself in the tight, hot drag, pulling him in and fraying his patience. Jongdae is sweet temptation folded back on himself, offering himself up and begging for more under his breath.

Jongdae’s head shifts further into the pillow after Yixing finishes a particularly powerful thrust. Yixing fucks into him again, this time speeding up near the end of his stroke. Heat coils in his groin, the tension in his body approaching a tipping point. His self control slips out of his grasp as his fingers dig into the backs of Jongdae’s thighs. Jongdae’s hand speeds up and their strokes fall out of sync as they race headlong toward climax. They’re both panting again, Jongdae louder and moaning with abandon. Typical.

Sweat beads at Yixing’s hairline, across his forehead. He’s close enough that his instinct is to go faster, snap his hips until Jongdae arches up, gasping, but it isn’t time yet. “You first.” His own words sound harsh to his ears, jaw clenching as his control wears thin.

“What?” Jongdae sounds breathless, hand unyielding in its pace. Yixing flicks his eyes up to Jongdae’s face.

Yixing keeps his hips rocking, each stroke accompanying his words. “You first, Jongdae.” It seems to him like the force of his hips helps Jongdae’s hand slam down his shaft, lips caught between his teeth as he chokes on a word, and then he’s coming and Yixing is fucking each spurt of cum out of him, splattering over Jongdae’s torso. They both watch him come all over himself. It’s difficult for Yixing to focus, his eyes hazed over with lust as Jongdae’s ass squeezes his dick in fluttering pulses from the moment he starts to come up through the last little dribble from Jongdae’s tip.

With the last of his self control, Yixing stops. His veins feel molten and his lungs are on fire but he keeps his hips still, allowing himself the simple pleasure of remaining pressed into Jongdae’s ass for a few moments longer. He pulls himself out, groaning at the loss of heat and pressure. When he releases his grip on Jongdae’s legs, Jongdae’s feet hit the floor.

Pinching his fingers together, hand in the shape of a duckbill, Yixing drops his hand to rest the fingertips above Jongdae’s navel. His belly rises and falls as Jongdae catches his breath under Yixing’s touch. The cum on Jongdae’s stomach is warm as he drags his fingers through it, spreading his fingers out in all directions. Yixing brings his fingers back together, turning his hand at the wrist to scoop up along Jongdae’s sternum.

Lifting his hand, Yixing examines his fingers. The tips to the first joint, with a few exceptions, glisten with it. He flicks his eyes from his hand to Jongdae, looking at Yixing with too much intensity for someone who just came spectacularly over his own body.

In one smooth motion, Yixing paints Jongdae’s cum across his mouth. He takes his hand away before Jongdae can try to suck a finger into his mouth. Scooping again with the imperfect cup of his fingertips, Yixing spreads more on Jongdae’s mouth.

Jongdae’s tongue darts out across his lips and any remaining self control Yixing had evaporates. His hand hovers away from Jongdae’s face. Eyes trained on Jongdae’s mouth, Yixing watches Jongdae play with it, using his tongue to spread it across his lips. His tongue isn’t long enough to reach all the come on his face, and he’s blushing under Yixing’s careful watch.

His performance doesn’t suffer for it, rather it makes him bolder. Tongue still smearing the cum around, Jongdae leans forward to suck two of Yixing’s fingers into his mouth. Yixing takes in a sharp breath through his teeth, instinctively grabbing his dick when Jongdae starts tonguing around and between his fingers with the same careful intensity he gives during blowjobs.

Jongdae closes his eyes and moans, fluttering his tongue between Yixing’s fingers, and that’s all it takes for Yixing to spill over in his hand, the tight coil in his groin exploding in pulses of pleasure. He loses track of himself, preoccupied with how he feels so damn _good_.

His forehead rests against Jongdae’s shoulder by the end of it. Blinking to clear his eyes, Yixing wonders why he hasn’t added more to the splatter on Jongdae’s body. Oh right. Condoms.

He tilts his head up, coming back down and into himself. He’d fallen forward, both hands planted on the bed.

“Sorry,” His mouth is cotton-ball dry. “I thought I was gonna come inside you.” Yixing pushes himself away from Jongdae, hands attending to his softening cock. He holds himself near the base of his shaft, still trapped in the used condom.

“Plans change.” He sounds as exhausted and sated as Yixing feels. “Your turn to clean.”

Dropping the tied-off condom in the little trash can, Yixing shuffles back to the bunk bed. He kneels down to deposit the abandoned butt plug into the nest of bath tissue of the toiletry bag. The towel, now free of its charge, he uses to wipe down Jongdae. Then he deposits it back to a heap on the floor before crawling back to the bunk bed.

He almost hits his head, making a sleepy Jongdae laugh as they readjust to stretch out on the bed. “Don’t forget, you still need to clean my toy since you used it.” Jongdae loops one of Yixing’s arms around his shoulders, tucking himself against Yixing’s torso. “This isn’t part of anything.” He’s warm and slightly sticky, and Yixing snickers as he pulls Jongdae close.

“Of course not.”


End file.
